


Hostage

by evilgiraff



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilgiraff/pseuds/evilgiraff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones is being held hostage.  A comment!fic inspired by photos posted at the LJ community jim_and_bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostage

“Let him go.” Jim's voice is as cold as Leonard has ever heard it. So cold, in fact, that he hardly seems to be Jim at all any more. He's not the ebullient hero James T. Kirk either. He's only just barely Captain Kirk – the title makes him seem too wholesome, too safe, too regulated. Right now, the captain seems to be more like some kind of avenging angel, a remorseless force of darkness.

There's a harsh reply from the man – or is it woman? Leonard has no idea how to tell the difference with this species, but he's sticking with “man” because it makes no odds, really, when the defining characteristic of this person is what's in their hand, not between their legs. In any case, the reply comes in a staccato language that rattles past Leonard's ear. With each clipped word he can see yellow-tinged spittle fly into his peripheral vision and then down out of sight.

Leonard keeps his eyes on Jim – because Jim is still in there, somewhere – and knows from the slight tightening of the skin around his eyes that the answer was not a favourable one. For the first time since this whole ridiculous situation began, Leonard starts to think that perhaps Jim _can't_ get him out of it. He closes his eyes and sways slightly. The man behind him tightens his grip on Leonard's bound hands, twisting them a little higher up behind his back and pulling so painfully on his shoulders that Leonard cries out. For that, the strangely beautiful knife – for all its graceful curves and wickedly sharp edges – is pressed a little closer to his kidneys and blood starts to soak through the ragged fabric of his shirt.

“Fine.” Jim's voice is completely free of any inflection, any clue that would give Leonard the slightest hint of his intentions. Still, Leonard listens, searches his captain's face for any sign of reassurance. He receives none, and Jim's next words make his blood run cold. “Bones. Hold still.”

He has time to take one deep breath before Jim raises his hands. The report of the gun is deafening in the close confines of the small room, and the sudden thought that he should probably be wearing ear defenders careens wildly through Leonard's mind before the pain registers. His world retracts to an exquisite blossoming of agony through his right shoulder and collarbone as he executes a slowly spinning crumple to the floor.

The floorboards are greasy, covered in old grime and fresh blood. Leonard's breath comes short and shuddering while the sounds of tussling wash over him, ignored now he's lived out his usefulness as a hostage. It's a few seconds – an hour – an age – later when Jim's feet, then knees, then hands appear, making a series of islands in the bloody pool.

“Bones? Shit, I'm so sorry. We've got them though, it's over. Just hold on. You'll be okay.” Jim's hand on Leonard's left shoulder is burning hot, and the relief that his _Jim_ is back is overwhelming. There's some low muttering, electronic chirping, and Jim's gloriously warm voice is back. “Enterprise. Two to beam up.”


End file.
